


The Assassin and the British Government

by jadztone



Series: Sherlock Nanowrimo [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, becomes canon divergent from there, both are CAM-related, references to sexual harrassment in 2nd chapter, someone is murdered in the 3rd chapter, starts out post-Reichenbach, the last two chapters play out parallelish to the events of HLV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 09:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadztone/pseuds/jadztone
Summary: After Sherlock fakes his death, Mycroft keeps an eye on John.  When he finds out the truth about the new nurse at John's work, he kidnaps Mary and warns her away from John.  The secret they share draws them closer together, until Magnussen finds out that secret and threatens to tear them apart.This story is my personal favorite of my nanowrimo works.





	1. Cold-blooded

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series of stories I wrote for Nanowrimo and posted on my tumbler page, sherlock-nanowrimo.tumblr.com. I was doing a story a day, generally leaving them open-ended if I wanted to add on to the story later in the month. The ones that I did add on to will be posted on AO3 as multiple chapters. They will all be posted as complete, with no expectation that I will ever revisit them. I haven't changed them from the way they were posted on tumblr, they have their issues, but I like to think of them as diamonds in the rough. The stories contain multiple crossovers with other fandoms, and multiple ships.

Mycroft sat down at his desk and opened up the briefs on all the non-urgent activities that took place since yesterday evening.  As he reviewed the material, he took particular notice of two things.  One, it looked like the police investigation into Moriarty’s death and claim to be Richard Brook would soon be wrapping up within a matter of months.  Good. Once the truth came out and Sherlock was vindicated, it would open the door to Sherlock coming home.  Mycroft was unsure of when that would happen, a lot depended on how much more work there was to be done on dismantling Moriarty’s network.  There was, of course, the possibility that something could come up that would require Sherlock’s services here in London.  Either way, any return would certainly go more smoothly if the public wasn’t thinking he was a fraud.  

The other brief that took his notice was the report of a new nurse at the clinic where John Watson worked, and his observer had witnessed the two of them flirting with one another. Mycroft made a note to do a background check on Mary Morstan.  It would be the first time John has shown a romantic interest in someone since Sherlock’s death, and it was worrisome.  John’s girlfriends, while he lived with Sherlock, were universally benign.  John was the type to crave adventure, which he got in spades with Sherlock, so there was no need to seek it out in the women he dated.  Sherlock was no longer in the picture, though, and Mycroft knew John would eventually want to fill that void.  Grief had delayed the craving, but now it seems that he was finally coming out of that fog and ready for adventure again.  Enter Mary Morstan, who could be as harmless as John’s previous girlfriends, but Mycroft was taking no chances.

~~~~~~~~

Mary dressed with care for work that morning.  She pretended to herself that it wasn’t for John, she just wanted to look professional for her job.  But it was totally for John.  He was adorable, funny, and very interested in her.  She leaned down and gave Chester a little kiss on his furry forehead.  She wouldn’t be surprised if he asked her out on a date, soon.  He seemed like the type who went in for the kill as soon as he saw what he liked. She winced a little at her choice of words, then shook it off.  She was not going to let her past continue to mess with her head.  She’d left it behind.  No one was ever going to find out what she was, she was never going to go back to it.  She sighed. So why did it keep invading her mind? Why did she keep letting it sabotage her relationships?  Especially David.  That should have been the perfect match for her – someone who was as far removed from her former lifestyle as was possible.  Exactly what she wanted.  But she’d eventually realized that it might be what she wanted, but it wasn’t what she deserved.  

She would never feel guilty about the people she’d assassinated.  They had all been terrible people who should have been dead if justice was to be served, but had all managed to outwit or buy off law enforcement.  But the fact that she was willing to eliminate them, do the dirty work that people with morality could not bring themselves to do, she knew that meant she was far more ruthless than someone like David should be with.  Just because it was not something she was currently doing didn’t mean that she didn’t carry it around inside of her.  So she’d broken it off, much to his disappointment.

Enter John Watson.  She’d already known about him from the newspapers, his adventures with his friend Sherlock Holmes. She’d read both of their blogs and found them to be fascinating.  When Sherlock died and his reputation was torn to shreds, she’d known that the whole Richard Brook thing had been bullshit.  She’d heard the name Moriarty plenty of times when she was still doing freelance work.  This man was no actor, he was a very powerful and dangerous criminal, and Mary was glad that he was dead.  Not so glad to hear about Sherlock.  

Mary had a feeling that it would be different with John than it had been with David.  From his descriptions about Sherlock on his blogs, it seemed that, like her, Sherlock had a certain ruthlessness about him.  He had the ability to cut off his feelings to get the job done, and she could relate to that.  Clearly John couldn’t, he often lamented this in his blogs.  But the key thing was that it hadn’t put him off.  He was loyal to Sherlock to the very end.  

Mary took one last look at herself in the mirror, nodded, then briskly went to the front door, grabbing her purse on the way.  As she opened it, she realized too late that a man was standing there.  He sprayed something on her face, and within seconds she had lost consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft studied the unconscious woman half-sitting, half-lying on the couch in front of him.  Mary Morstan. It had taken some effort, given the false information about herself she’d been planting for over four years, but his people had uncovered the truth about her.  Oh, what a tangled web that John had almost walked into.  Mycroft himself had come close to spilling his tea when he read the report, it had slopped over the side onto the saucer.  An assassin.  A successful assassin.  She’d never been caught, she’d simply stopped taking jobs and slipped off quietly into the ether.  

It had almost been amusing reading the descriptions about her before and after her retirement, what people had to say about A.G.R.A. and Mary Morstan. A.G.R.A. was an extremely dangerous, intelligent, skilled woman.  A crack shot with a photographic memory and knew multiple languages.  Probably not British.  What people said about Mary was that she was lively, warm, generous, witty, loved to bake, had a cat, and was a liberal.  Oh John, Mycroft thought.  I can see why you were drawn to her.  She’s everything you like, including the part about being a sociopath.  Sherlock would probably love her.  

Mycroft himself found her very intriguing.  She was not quite as idiotic as the rest of the world seemed to be. He certainly didn’t find her past as repugnant as he probably should.  He’d seen the list of her victims and felt pity for none of them.  She’d apparently turned down jobs from potential clients that just wanted someone out of the way, so she had some sort of personal moral code.  It was unlikely that she’d ever try to hurt John, or Sherlock when he inevitably came back. But Mycroft wasn’t taking any chances. If nothing else, she herself might eventually become a target of someone dangerous if her cover is ever exposed.  She had to be cut off from John before they got involved.

Mary slowly regained consciousness.  She could tell she was being watched.  She could also tell that her hands and feet were tied and she was on what felt like a couch.  She had no way of knowing who had taken her, or why, but the greatest likelihood was that she’d been found out and someone wanting to avenge one of her victims now had her under their control.  She strove to contain her fear response, channel the adrenaline into something more useful.  

Apparently the person watching her detected her wakefulness, because he spoke up. “If you are concerned about why you have been taken, I can assure you that no harm will come to you as long as you cooperate.  I am in no way connected to any of the people that you murdered in your former profession. I am however connected to someone in your current profession.”

In her surprise, Mary’s eyes snapped open and she sat up.  Sitting across from her was a man, gazing at her in polite interest.  He wore a very expensive suit, his brown hair cut very short and neat.  His demeanor was very relaxed, with his arms resting casually on the arms of the chair and his legs crossed.  But she could tell that he was not a laid back man.  He was very intelligent, watchful, protective. Ever vigilant.  He had the appearance of a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it was probably true.  He smiled slightly.  “Have you taken my measure, yet?  Are you assured that I won’t harm you?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.  “I don’t think you’ll harm me.  Yet.  I suppose it depends on this cooperation you spoke of.”  She took in her surroundings.  She was in an office, large and well-appointed.  The office of a very important person.  Yet, she didn’t recognize him.  Who was he?  Who was he connected to in her clinic?  Suddenly the answer came to her.  “It’s John, isn’t it?  He’s the connection.  All the things he’s gotten up to with his friend Sherlock Holmes.  He was always writing in his blog that he couldn’t share details about cases because of the Official Secrets act, so that means he’s met some very important people, done them a lot of favors.  Damn it, why didn’t I take that into account?”

Mycroft was impressed.  Very impressed.  She still didn’t know who he was, but she’d gotten pretty close.  He cleared his throat.  “Indeed, John and Sherlock have made a lot of important allies in their work. And enemies.  You can see why we’d be concerned that he’s now crossing paths with a former assassin.”

“Former is the key word, I am no longer in that line of work.  I help people, now, and I promise that us working at the same clinic was entirely a coincidence.  I knew of him when I met him, just like everyone else in London, but I didn’t seek him out.”  She looked at him with beseeching eyes, which moments ago had been assessing him like a hawk. They were actually quite lovely eyes. Very expressive, and he knew from photographs that they lit up when she smiled.  

“I believe you, Ms. Morstan.  You see, I just referred to you by the name you gave yourself four years ago.  I don’t believe that you intend to harm Doctor Watson. But I have reason to believe that you could prove dangerous to him in the future.  That is why I cannot allow you to continue your flirtation with him. I suggest that you either, erm, blow him off, or better yet stop working at that clinic altogether.  I can arrange for a new position elsewhere.”

Her shoulders slumped.  “But I just started working there!  I like John. How can I convince you that I’m not dangerous?”

“You can’t.  I’ve weighed all the options and this is your only choice.  Either keep away from John Watson, or I will be sure to tell him everything about you. “

“Damn you!  I’m trying to rebuild my life!  To actually have a life!  Please don’t destroy it.”

“You can have a life, Ms. Morstan.  I have no desire to take that away from you.  You’ve only just met John, so it’s not like I’m breaking your heart. Ripping you from the man of your dreams. Just find someone else to marry and have babies with.”

She laughed harshly.  “You think it’s as easy as that?  I’ve tried, believe me I have.  You don’t know how hard it is to be around normal people, to try to relate to someone who has no clue about the real world.”  Mycroft feigned impassivity, but she’d struck a chord.  Mary continued, “I’ve realized that I’m not capable of loving someone who innocently sees everything as black and white, who doesn’t understand the hard, often cold-blooded choices that people make to get done what needs to get done.  I need to be with someone who does understand.  They might not ever know anything about my past, but I can at least know that they understand who I am, fundamentally.  I was excited about John because of what I’d read about his friendship with that Sherlock Holmes.”

Mycroft tensed ever so slightly.  “What do you know about Sherlock Holmes?”  

Mary shrugged.  “Only what I’ve read in John’s blog.  And in the newspapers, I guess, but those are rubbish.  He wasn’t the fake they say he is.  Moriarty was real.”

“How do you know that for a fact?”  

She raised one eyebrow.  “You know everything about me and you have to ask that?”

“Yes of course.  I guess you would know about him.”

“Exactly.  I figured if John knew a man like Sherlock Holmes and cared about him, then maybe he could fall in love with someone like me.”

Mycroft’s eyebrows rose.  “From a consulting detective to an assassin.  Yes, I could see John escalating his fetish for danger.  Which is why you have to be stopped.  I’m sorry.  I sympathize with not being able to find someone who can relate to you, more than you could ever know.  But not John. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Please go find one that I am not personally responsible for protecting.”

Mary glared at him, frustration evident in every curve and line of her face. “Who are you, anyway?  Why are you protecting John Watson?”

“I don’t usually deign to identify myself, but since I feel a tiny bit remorseful about dashing your romantic hopes, I’ll make an exception.  I am Sherlock’s older brother, Mycroft Holmes.  I owe it to Sherlock to protect John.  And I have the means to do it.”  She stared at him, shocked by this revelation.  He continued.  “Now, are we in agreement?  You stay away from John, I don’t reveal your past to anyone.”

“How do I know you won’t hold it over me in the future?”  

“You don’t.  But as long as you aren’t a danger to anyone I care about, you’re in no danger from me.”

Mary exhaled.  “Fine. If John asks me out, I’ll pretend I’m already seeing someone.  I don’t want to change jobs, I’m only just started and I’m trying to develop a reputation for reliability in my profession. “

“Fair enough.  I hope that I can rely on you as well.  Thank you for your cooperation, Mary.  Someone will be in shortly to escort you home.”

“Will you at least untie me?  The binds are becoming quite painful.”

Mycroft knew it was a bad idea, but he found that he didn’t want to continue hurting her.  He sat down on the couch next to her.  “Don’t try to assassinate me.  I’ve taken precautions.  If I die, within minutes your entire history will spread all over London.  Any chance of anonymity will be ruined forever.”  After she gave him a tight smile, he untied first her feet, then her hands.  Within seconds she had him on his back, straddling him so that he couldn’t move.

Mary took a deep breath.  Now that she was in control, she felt relief creep into her.  And anger.  She leaned down and looked Mycroft in the eyes.  So, this was Sherlock Holmes’ brother.  She wondered how smart he was compared to his brother.  Obviously there were some similarities given how much power this man wielded.  “I may have no choice about doing what you want, but rest assured that I will never forgive or forget it.  I worked hard to leave behind my past and have control over my own life.  I finally felt secure and reassured of a future, and I hate you for taking that away from me.”

Mycroft’s expression was resigned as he gazed back at her.  “I’m used to people hating me.  It’s the consequence of being the person who has to make the cold-blooded choices to get done what needs to get done.”

Mary blinked, and sat up.  She stared down at him for a long moment, unable to process how she felt about what he just said.  It didn’t matter.  She needed to get out of this place.  Needed to get back to her home, to her cat, to her attempt at a normal life.  She released her hold on him and got up.  She practically ran as she went out the door, away from this odd man who she realized understood her more than anyone else ever could.  Not even John.  


	2. The Weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter jumps to when Sherlock is back from the dead. Mary and Mycroft are in an established secret relationship. How they got together will be explored in flashback in the next chapter.

Mary stumbled into her flat, desperate for the privacy she needed to process what had just happened. First things first, she bolted to the bathroom and vomited as soon as she reached the toilet.  She’d never met anyone as repulsive as Charles Augustus Magnussen.  This was saying a lot considering she’d been a professional assassin whose job it was to murder repulsive people.

She would have to murder him.  That was all there was to it.  This snake was after Mycroft, and he was planning to use her to get to him.  After all these years, she’d thought she had put this behind her.  Taking a life, no matter how much they deserved it, took a tremendous toll.  And now she would have to do it again.  Mary sat next to the toilet, tears rolling down her cheeks.  She was realizing now that she didn’t deserve a normal life.  Her past behavior was always going to catch up to her.  

Mary spent the next few days researching Magnussen’s security, figuring out the best place and time to put a bullet in his brain.  She sat on her bed, perusing all the information she’d gathered, periodically moving Chester out of the way.  Probably the easiest approach would be to befriend Janine Hawkins, his personal assistant.  Unfortunately if Mycroft found out, he’d know immediately what she was up to.    Mary thought of some other ideas, but always came back to Mycroft - he had eyes and ears all over London.  How could she possibly do this without him finding out?  Even if she did manage to pull it off without him learning about it ahead of time, it would be obvious it was a professional hit.  Mycroft was sleeping with an assassin, and now his enemy had a bullet in his brain.  He wouldn’t have to be a genius to put two and two together.  

He knew that Magnussen wanted to control him.  Mycroft had kept their relationship a secret for that very reason.  But they’d messed up.  They’d gone separately to a nursing charity function, he with his cronies and she with other nurses.  They were passing each other, when one of the wait staff proffered a tray of canapes. They’d both reached for one at the same time, and as their hands touched, she couldn’t help but give him a flirtatious smile.  And though he’d managed to retain the impassive expression he always kept, there’d been a little twinkle.  One of the event photographers took their picture without them realizing, and it was in the society column of one of Magnussen’s papers the next day.  He took notice of the picture and assigned one of his men to follow them and see if there was more to it.  Magnussen showed her all the evidence that he’d accumulated of their relationship.  Then he showed her all the evidence he’d accumulated on her past.  She told him that Mycroft already knew everything about her. Magnussen said he wasn’t surprised, but he would be surprised if anyone else knew.  Mycroft’s career would be ruined if it got out who he was dating.  Mary shoved aside all the papers, not bearing to look at them anymore.  She had to get to work.  

At work that day, Mary tried to concentrate, but all she could think about was her dilemma.  She also felt sick to her stomach.  Every time she thought about how Magnussen had treated her, she wanted to run to the bathroom.  He’d touched her inappropriately.  Called her vile names.  Told her the things he’d do to her if he was in Mycroft’s shoes.  Mary gave a soft gasp, trying to push it all out of her mind.

“Mary, are you alright?” She blinked and looked up.  It was John.  

“Oh, John!  I’m sorry.  I…um…I”  She jumped up and ran to the bathroom.  When she came back, John was still there, frowning.  “I’m sorry. I had to um…I just had to..”

“Be sick to your stomach?”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Well, I am a doctor. You were three shades of green. Is everything okay?  You don’t have a virus, do you?”

“Oh no, if I did I wouldn’t have come to work.”

“That’s what I thought. Are you..um…pregnant?”

Mary’s eyes widened. “Oh no, of course not!  No!”

His eyebrows went up. “Well, it’s not unheard of, you know. You do have a boyfriend, or so you’ve told me.  I’ve never met him.  Or even know his name.  But you are dating someone and…accidents happen.”

She laughed shakily. John had long been suspicious that she was putting him off by lying about having a boyfriend.  She was of course lying that first time he asked her out, at Mycroft’s behest.  She’d kept it vague, being evasive when anyone from the clinic asked her about her boyfriend.  Eventually she had started dating someone for real, and that someone happened to be the brother of Sherlock Holmes.  Sherlock, by that point had come back from the dead and he and John were back to living together.  So she’d continued to be evasive about the person she was seeing, and John concluded awhile back that he didn’t exist.  “John, I know accidents happen.  But I’m a nurse.  You think I wouldn’t know how to be careful?”

John shrugged.  “Okay, fine.  Just trying to make a diagnosis.”

Mary took a deep breath. “You don’t need to.  It’s an emotional reaction.  I’m going through something pretty traumatic.  A problem I need to solve and it’s…weighing heavily.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.  Well, if you ever want to talk about it.  Or, you know, if it’s the sort of thing that Sherlock could solve for you, I could make sure he takes the case.”

Mary stared at him. “Sherlock?”

“Yeah, you know, my flatmate.  Sherlock Holmes.  He tends to be picky about his cases, doesn’t want to be bored.  But I could put in a good word.  If it’s the sort of thing he could solve.  I could be way off base about what sort of problem you’re having.” John chuckled.

Mary continued to stare at him.  “Of course. Why didn’t I think of it before? Sherlock Holmes is the perfect person to help me.  John, you’re an angel.  Could you set up an appointment with him?”

John looked surprised. “Yes!  Yes, absolutely.  Umm…I should probably point this out.  I mean, you’ve read my blogs so you already know, but…I usually help Sherlock with his cases.  If you don’t want me to know what it is you tell him, you should probably say up front.”

Mary regarded him for a moment.  “No, you should be there.  You have a right to know.”

John nodded.  “Okay then, that’s alright. I’ll set it up.”  He turned to leave and then hesitated and turned back.  “Wait, I have a right to know?  What do I have to do with it?”

Mary was quick to point behind him.  “Looks like a patient just walked in.”

After the clinic closed for the evening, Mary accompanied John back to 221B Baker Street.  As she entered the flat, she saw Sherlock Holmes. He was sitting in a chair, reading a book.  She smiled. So this was the brother of the man she was falling in love with.  The one she was counting on to save them all.  She took a deep breath to steady her nerves.  John piped up.  “Sherlock, this is Mary Morstan.  I told you about her over the phone.”

Sherlock flicked a disinterested look her way, and held his hand out to a wooden chair positioned between his chair and another one opposite.  “Sit.”

Mary raised her eyebrows and looked to John.  He gave an embarrassed chuckle.  “This is where our clients sit.  They tell us their stories and we decide if we want them or not.  But Sherlock already promised he would take your case.”

Sherlock murmured, “No, I didn’t.”

John gave Sherlock an irked look.  “We discussed this, Sherlock.  I told you that whatever she’s going through is bad enough to make her physically ill.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “And I promised to listen.  I didn’t promise to take the case.”

Mary held up a hand. “John, relax.  I know he’ll take the case.”

They both gave her a startled look.  Without another word, Mary went over to the chair and sat down.  She turned to John, who scurried over and sat in his chair. She looked over at Sherlock, who was gazing at her with narrowed eyes.  “Have me all figured out yet, Sherlock?”

He pressed his palms together and tapped them against his lips.  “Besides all the other things that John has told me about you, I perceive that you are a liar.”

She nodded.  “Yes, I am.  I have had to lie a great deal in my life.  One of the things that I’ve lied about, to John, is my boyfriend.”  

John’s eyes widened. “I knew it!  There is no boyfriend, is there?”

“There wasn’t one, the first time you asked me out.  I have started dating someone since then.  It’s someone you both know.  It’s the very person who told me to lie to you in the first place, because he didn’t want you and I to get involved.”  Mary looked over at Sherlock and gave him a significant look.  

Sherlock’s eyes widened as well.  “Mycroft.”

Mary smiled.  “Yes, Sherlock.  I’m dating your brother.”

John’s expression was gobsmacked.  Sherlock just looked ticked off.  He stood up and began pacing.  “Well, well, well.  My brother, who has spent years lecturing me about sentiment, warning me not to care for people, and here he is head over heels for a woman.  So much for not having a goldfish.”

Mary burst out laughing. “Goldfish.  That’s so Mycroft.”  She looked over at John, who continued to look stunned.  “You see why I had to keep it a secret, John?  I mean, it would have been too hard to explain the coincidence that I was dating Sherlock’s brother.  Besides, we had to keep it a secret from everyone.”

Sherlock strode over to his desk and rummaged through some papers.  He pulled out a newspaper clipping and came over to show it to her. “Not so much a secret anymore.” It was the picture of her and Mycroft. The caption read, “Government official Mycroft Holmes and nurse noshing at charity function.”  Sherlock also showed it to John.  “I didn’t recognize you when you first walked in, your hair is different, but while I was studying you I realized you were the same one in the picture.”

John squinted at the picture.  “Hang on, I remember you went to this with some of the other nurses.”

Mary nodded.  “We were being so careful.  It was just really bad luck that the one time during the event we crossed paths, someone took our picture.”  A tear rolled down her cheek.  “And it ruined everything.”

Sherlock sat back down. “I think I know where this is going, but before we get to that, we need to go back to how you two met in the first place.”  He glanced over at John.  “And I’m sure John wants to know how he was involved.”

John put the newspaper clipping down on the side table with a thump.  “You think?”

Mary took a deep breath. “During the time that Sherlock was faking his death, Mycroft was keeping an eye on you, John.  Partly to make sure nothing happened to reveal the truth, and partly as a favor to Sherlock.  Make sure that you were doing okay.  One of his operatives observed the two of us flirting shortly after I started working at the clinic.  Mycroft believed that anyone you might show an interest in, now that Sherlock wasn’t around, would be cause for concern.”

John gave her an incredulous look.  “What does that mean?”

Sherlock chuckled.  “She means that you are addicted to a certain lifestyle. You’re abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people.”

John scoffed, but Mary nodded.  “Exactly. So he did a background check on me. He um…was greatly concerned about what he found.  So he warned me to stay away from you.  Threatened to reveal my past if I dated you.  So that was why I lied and told you I had a boyfriend.”

John stared at her, furious. “You mean to tell me that if it weren’t for Mycroft interfering, you would have gone out with me?”  She nodded.  “That cock-blocking son of a bitch!  Who the hell does he think he is, interfering in my love life?”

Mary said gently, “He did the right thing, John.  For all our sakes.  If you and I had dated, there would have been the lie of my past in between us always. I had convinced myself that I could do such a thing, but Mycroft knew better.  I have to say that being with someone who knows everything about me and can still want to be with me, it’s so much better.  Most people wouldn’t even be able to stomach looking at me if they knew.”

John drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.  “Well, I guess we’re about to put it to the test, whether Sherlock and I can stomach it. You are going to tell us about this past, aren’t you?  It will help us understand why Mycroft would ruin my chance at happiness because of it.”

Sherlock gave John an annoyed look, then murmured.  “It will also explain why Charles Augustus Magnussen has taken notice of you.”

Mary looked at him sharply. Oh, he was good.  Very good.  She cleared her throat.  “Before I begin, you need to understand that there are only two other people in this world who know the truth about me.  I would never share this with you if I didn’t already know that Mycroft trusts the two of you completely.”  She took a deep breath.  “Up until five years ago, I was someone completely different than I am now.  I won’t tell you my real name, but I will say that I had many names over the years.  I was an intelligence agent for a long time.  My job was to eliminate people who were considered dangerous to my country. I did my job without complaint for years, never disputing the legitimacy of the orders.  Until…until one time I was given a target that I did dispute.  I absolutely did not believe this person was a threat.  So I went rogue and disappeared.  I wasn’t sure what to do with my life, until I found out that I had apparently built up a reputation in the underworld.  I decided to bank on that reputation and went freelance.  I was able to make a living with my skill set, and pick and choose my clients and targets.”

Mary risked a glance over at Sherlock, whose expression was impassive, then over at John, whose expression was the opposite of impassive.  She swallowed, and continued.  “I was only able to sustain that lifestyle a few years.  While I was working for the government, they had a way of indoctrinating you to make what you’re doing feel okay.  You’re being patriotic.  You’re saving lives.  When I was freelance, I convinced myself I was a vigilante.  I was eliminating people who were the scum of the earth, who deserved to die and would have done so if their justice system was working the way it should.  But it required me to be judge, jury, and executioner over and over and over. Every time I was approached with a new job I would have to read about all the horrible things the target did and would continue to do if they weren’t stopped.  I had to study the evidence to make sure that what they were accused of was true.  Then I had to decide if it was bad enough to take their life.  Many times these people had families that had no idea of their misdeeds.”

Tears spilled from Mary’s cheeks.  “Eventually I couldn’t do it anymore.  I didn’t want to take life, I wanted to give life.  I wanted to feel love, not hate.    And so I came here to London, trained to be a nurse, and Mary Morstan was born.”

There was a long, long silence.  John looked up at the ceiling.  “Well. A few minutes ago I was cursing Mycroft for his interference.”  He gave a cynical little laugh.  “But now I want to send him a bottle of scotch.”  He gave Mary a piercing look.  “I came that close to dating an assassin?   You actually killed people in cold blood?  That was your job.  And now you’re a bloody nurse?”  He stood up and started pacing around.  “The amazing thing is that Mycroft warned you away from me, rightfully so, but now he’s dating you himself!”  He looked over at Sherlock, who continued to remain impassive.  “Why do you look so unconcerned?  Your brother is dating a psychopath!”

Sherlock gazed at John, a frown creasing his forehead.  “Oh, I’m concerned for my brother, alright.  Very concerned.  Charles Augustus Magnussen is no one to be trifled with.”

John gave him an exasperated look and sat back down.  “Okay, I’ll bite.  The name sounds familiar, but I don’t know who he is or why you would fear him and not this murderer sitting in front of us.”

Sherlock looked at him sharply.  “I do not appreciate the judgmental tone you’re taking regarding our client.  Have you or have you not witnessed many of your fellow soldiers commit murder on behalf of our government?”  John gave him a startled look.  “And have you or have you not killed someone in cold blood when my life was in imminent danger?”  John sat back in his chair, stunned into silence.  

Sherlock looked back over at Mary.  “I’ve deduced that Magnussen is the problem that you’ve come here today hoping to resolve. He owns the newspaper that published the picture of you and Mycroft.  You indicated that the picture ruined everything.  Mycroft and I have discussed Magnussen before, and I know that he wields power by collecting information on people and blackmailing them with it.  He would love to wield power over Mycroft and has been waiting for an opportunity to hold something over him.  He saw the two of you in his paper looking cozy.  He investigated you and found out your past.  Now he wants to use you against Mycroft.”

Mary nodded.  “That’s it in a nutshell.”

Sherlock stood up.  “Well, Mary, you were right.  I will take your case.  I have enough to go on for the moment.  Right now I need to go into my mind palace, so John will escort you down to the street.  Thank you for coming to me with such a delightful problem.  Not even remotely as boring as I thought it would be when John called me earlier.  I’ll be in touch when I need more details.  Good night.”  Sherlock strode over to his bedroom and closed the door.

Mary exhaled in relief. Sherlock was going to help her.  But she was still uncomfortable with John sitting there staring at her, so she stood up and started to walk towards the door. “Goodnight, John.  I…guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

John jumped up and went after her.  “Sherlock said to escort you to the street.  It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”  He opened the door and waved his hand towards the hallway.  Her face burning, she hurried down the stairs, with him close behind her, and opened the door to the street.  “Mary!”  She paused and turned.  “Sherlock was right.  It was hypocritical of me to judge you when I myself was a soldier taking orders.  And I too have been judge, jury, and executioner when Sherlock’s life was at stake.”  He shook his head.  “I thought that secret would stay between me and him forever.”

Mary spoke softly.  “It was the taxi driver, wasn’t it?”  He gazed at her, startled.  “When you were talking about it in your blog, the way you described the person who shot the driver, it struck a chord in me.  It was like you understood me.  It was one of the reasons why I wanted to date you.  I thought I might succeed in a relationship with you, when I wasn’t able to with any of the men I dated who had never seen any of that sort of thing in their life.”

John smiled a little. “Now that I’m over my initial shock, I can see why I was drawn to you.  As Sherlock said, I’m abnormally attracted to dangerous people.”

Mary smiled at him.  “But Mycroft was right to intervene.  It never would have worked. I wouldn’t have told you about my past, not voluntarily anyway, and it would have been a big wedge between us.”

“But I do know, now.   It’s no longer a secret.  But it’s too late for us because Mycroft has won you for himself.”

Her smile turned shaky. “Not much of a prize.  I’m now being used as a weapon against him.”  Her voice hitched as she tried not to start crying again.  

John reached out and folded her into a hug.  “Hey now, don’t worry.  Sherlock will solve this problem.”

Mary pulled away and nodded. “Thank him for me.  Anyway, I better go.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He chucked her under the chin with his hand.  “Indeed, Nurse Morstan.  Tomorrow, bright and early!”


	3. Schrodinger's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> picks up where the last chapter left off, with some flashbacks to how these crazy kids got together.

Mycroft checked himself in the mirror.  He straightened his tie a little.  Mary always did a better job than he did, which never ceased to amaze him because he thought he’d perfected it.  But she wasn’t here this morning.  She stayed home last night because she’d spent most of the day being sick to her stomach.  Mycroft paused.  She wasn’t pregnant, was she?  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that possibility.  He was honestly surprised that he wasn’t immediately horrified.

As he walked out the bedroom, he was unable to resist bending over and sniffing the pillow where she usually slept when she was over.  Clair de Lune.  He missed her.  He wondered if she would call in sick today.  Maybe he could go visit her.  He checked his schedule on his mobile.  Meetings back to back all day.  He could shuffle some around.  He called Mary.  When she answered, he asked, “How are you feeling today?  Going into work?”

“Oh, yes, I feel much better today.  So I’ll be at work.”

“A shame, I was going to come visit you.”

“Oh, Mycroft, that’s so sweet!  Sometimes I wish you could come see me at work.”

“Yes, if nothing else but to see the look on Doctor Watson’s face.”

She laughed.  “Well, I’m about to get on the tube.  See you tonight?”

“Yes, I look forward to it.” He hung up and tapped his mobile to his lips.  Yes, John would probably be quite surprised to find out that he was the one who cheated him out of dating Mary.  Sherlock would be surprised that he was dating anyone at all.  As often as he’d lectured Sherlock about the pitfalls of love, and he’d fallen right into the pit.  

To be fair, he’d never understood until now just how much of a narcotic it could be, and why people couldn’t seem to live without it.  It was heady stuff.  And it had caught him quite by surprise.  A few weeks after his first encounter with Mary, when he’d warned her off John, he’d come home one evening to find her sitting on his bed.  He’d regarded her for a moment, and then remarked, “I don’t think you’re here to offer yourself to me.  That doesn’t seem like your style.”

She smiled.  “I find the best way to throw a man off kilter is to suddenly appear in his bed.”

“Well, my kilter is definitely off.  But that’s more because I’m concerned about how you got in here.  I use quite a number of barriers to entry.”

“And I quite enjoyed getting past each and every one.  Maybe someday I’ll give you advice on how to improve your security.  If we become friends.”

His eyebrows went skyward. “Friends?”  He said it as if it were a contemptible thing.  

She couldn’t help a laugh at his expression, then sobered.  “Well, they say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.  My rule is to keep very close anyone who knows my secrets. Would you rather be my friend or my enemy?”

“I would rather that you go away and never come here again.”

She climbed off the bed. He regarded her warily.  She didn’t appear to be armed.  “Mr. Holmes.  You are the one person on earth that knows my secrets.  I can’t go away.  Unless…unless you give me everything you have on me so I can destroy it. I’ve done what you promised, I told John I have a boyfriend.  He’s stopped flirting with me.”

Mycroft shook his head. He decided that if she was going to kill him, she would have done so by now.  He proceeded to take off his jacket and hang it up.  Then he untied his tie and put that away as well.  He found a cardigan and put that on. She frowned at him. “What are you, Mr. Rogers?”

He looked at her quizzically.  “Who?” She let out another involuntary laugh. “Ms. Morstan, I can’t give you the documentation yet.  I can’t be sure that Doctor Watson won’t renew his advances.  He can be persistent, as my assistant well knows.”

She sighed.  “If he does I’ll just keep telling him I have a boyfriend.  But really, I don’t think he’s going to try again.”

Mycroft went down to his study, and she followed close behind.  He poured himself a scotch, then after a brief hesitation he poured her one as well.  “Ms. Morstan, I don’t think you understand your appeal.  You’re not the type of woman that a man gives up on quite that easily.”  He sat down on the settee.  To his surprise, she sat down next to him.  It was not very big and so she was sitting closer than he was used to.  He cleared his throat.  “You remember David, don’t you?”

She frowned at him.  “My ex-boyfriend?  We’re still good friends.”

“He very much wants to go back to being your boyfriend.  He’s not even remotely over you.  The signs are all there on social media.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re following me on social media?”

He tilted his head. “Well of course.  To observe your interactions with Doctor Watson.”

She sighed and looked skyward, then took a swig of scotch.  She wrinkled her nose a little.  “This is good, but I prefer bourbon.”

“You would.”

She stared at him.  “Of course you would know that, because of where I’m from.”  She shook her head.  “As I said before, you are the only one in the world who knows everything about me. That makes me feel both drawn to you and wary of you at the same time.  Is that weird?”

He shook his head. “Not at all.  As the one person in the world who knows who you truly are, I’m the only one who you can truly be yourself around.  But at the same time, I am a threat to your sense of security.  I could expose you.  You are safe and unsafe at the same time.”

She gave a half smile. “Schrodinger’s secret.”

He beamed. “Exactly!”  She gave him a startled look.  “What?”

“Well, you smiled.   It was a very nice smile.”  He frowned at her.  “Awww, I made it go away.”

“I’m still waiting for you to go away.”

She leaned back and sipped her scotch.  “I have spent the past few weeks since I met you terrified that my secret was going to come out at any minute.  I can’t live like that.  It will drive me crazy.  So I decided the best way to have peace of mind is to check up on you periodically. Make sure you keep your word.  Or, if you see fit, you give me the documentation I want.  Then I would definitely go away.  Until then, expect to see me a lot more often.”

He looked exasperated. “I will simply increase the safeguards on my home.”

She lifted her shoulders and grinned.  “Oooh, I look forward to it.  I’ve gotten a bit rusty.”  She took a last swig of scotch and handed him the empty glass.  “See you again soon, Mr. Holmes.”  With that she was gone.

She’d kept her word. Every couple of weeks she’d show up at either his house or his office. Once she’d even appeared in the bathroom at the Diogenes Club.  Their interactions varied.  She flirted a lot.  Sometimes she was serious.  One time she’d spent the entire visit talking about her cat Chester and sharing photos of him on her mobile phone.  Another time she cried about a patient she’d just lost.  

Mycroft never knew why he put up with all this.  He could have made her stop by threatening to expose her.  He could have had her put in jail for trespassing.  But he found it was the last thing in the world he wanted. She was unusual.  Not at all boring.  Sherlock got bored a lot, and would take it out on his wall or something. Mycroft was rarely bored – being in charge of a country kept you on your toes.  But people were boring.  So very boring.  Like goldfish.  Not Mary.

He liked it the most when she flirted with him.  During those times she was unpredictable, vivacious, and he could almost imagine her suddenly leaning over to kiss him.  There was no way he would initiate a kiss with her. There was too much of a power differential.  Although if she kissed him, how would he know it wasn’t an attempt to manipulate him? Better that no kissing happen at all. What a disappointing conclusion that had been.  And then one day she did kiss him.  

He’d surprised her with a bottle of very fine bourbon.  She immediately poured a glass and then plopped down next to him.  She took a long sip and closed her eyes.  “Oh that’s good, Mycroft.  So good.”  She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “Have you tried it?  You should taste it.”  

Smiling slightly, he reached for her glass, but she held it away from him.  Then she kissed him, and he could taste the bourbon on her lips and then her tongue.  When she broke the kiss, she gazed at him again.  He found himself suddenly blurting out, “Sherlock’s alive.”  She leaned away from him, the amazement on her face mirroring his own.  What had he done?  He remembered his scorn at Sherlock for falling for Irene’s tricks.  

“Why did you tell me that, Mycroft?”  Her voice was gentle.  As if she understood that he was distressed to reveal what he just did.  

“I’m wondering myself, but the more I think about it, the more I realize there’s a certain logic to it.” He looked at her.  “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for weeks now, but I haven’t because of the hold I have over you.  I don’t believe two people should engage in anything physical with each other when the dynamic between them is so unequal.  When you kissed me just now,”  He ran his finger down her cheek, “I quite enjoyed it and hoped we would do more. So I guess the part of me that felt a sense of honor decided to level the playing field.”  He shook his head.  “I betrayed my brother for sex.  I guess we’re even, now.”  He rubbed his hand on his face.  

She leaned over and kissed him again.  “Don’t look at it that way.  Look at it as you are a good judge of character and know you can trust me with your secret.  Just like I’ve trusted you with mine.  But my god, Mycroft!  He’s alive! That’s huge!  Wait, does John know the truth?”

Mycroft shook his head. “No!  And he absolutely cannot know.”

“Oh, poor John.  His grief does seem genuine.  He misses Sherlock so much.”

“Well, he’ll see him soon enough.  There are some things going on that require him back here.  His good name has been restored now that it’s been proven the Richard Brook persona was a myth.  So I shall go pull him out from his current mission.  Which reminds me, I need to learn Serbian.  Shouldn’t be too difficult.”  Mary grinned and said something to him in Serbian.   He smiled.  “In a few hours I should know what you just said.”

“I said that I wish I could go with you.  Serbian food is very rich, but delicious.”

He chuckled.  “Wouldn’t that make a delightful first weekend away? Going under cover to rescue my little brother from a Serbian Baron.”  He suddenly frowned.  “I just realized something.  I now fully understand Schrodinger’s Secret.”

She smiled.  “Safe and unsafe at the same time.”  This time he pulled her in for a kiss.

Mycroft was pulled from his memories by the opening of the car door.  He was at work.  Had he really spent the entire ride to work thinking about Mary?  He climbed out of the car and within minutes he was in his office sitting at his desk.  He glanced at the surveillance reports from the night before.  There was a file labeled 221B.  Interesting, he rarely got a report from there these days.  His brother and John were behaving themselves lately, and the instructions were to only report if something out of the ordinary happened.  He opened the file.  The paragraph on top stated that at 6pm, Mary Morstan had accompanied John Watson into 221B Baker Street.  Some time later she left.  The two of them stood in the doorway for a few minutes and engaged in deep conversation. Photographs enclosed.  

Mycroft set aside the report and looked at the photographs.  Mary and John were standing in the entranceway.  In one photo they were smiling.  In another they were hugging, her expression was downcast.  In the last picture, he was holding her chin with his hand.  Mycroft looked at the last one for awhile, then closed the folder.  He leaned back in his chair.  Okay.  Better to get the ugly, irrational theories out of the way first.  They were seeing each other.  Maybe they’d been dating all along and doing a very good job of keeping it a secret.  Maybe this was recent.  Okay. Now that that was out of the way, what was the more logical reason she would be at 221B?  She’d never been there before, it would have shown up in the report before now.  If they were having a secret affair, she would know better than to set foot in the place.  She’d cried off seeing him last night, saying that she felt sick.  But she went to 221B.  She wasn’t there long, though.  She could have easily come over afterwards.  

There was only one conclusion he could draw that made sense.  She’d gone to see Sherlock.  She had a problem, and couldn’t come to Mycroft with it.  A name swirled through his head.  An ugly name.  Charles Augustus Magnussen.  Mycroft truly hoped that Mary was having an affair with John Watson, if the alternative was that Magnussen had his hooks into her.  Mycroft picked up the telephone and dialed a number.  He gave some instructions, then hung up.  He wouldn’t confront Mary until he knew for sure what was going on.  

A few weeks later, Mycroft got a call from John to let him know that he’d found Sherlock in a drug den. He was currently being tested by Molly at St. Bart’s and they would be home after that. Mycroft thanked him and hung up, then called Anderson and arranged for him to search the flat for drugs and that he’d meet him there.  When Mycroft got to the flat, Anderson was there with someone, searching the place.  Mycroft sat down in John’s chair.  He stared at the wooden chair they used to confer with clients.  Had Mary sat there?  Probably.  He was convinced more than ever that her visit to 221B weeks ago had been to see Sherlock.  There had been no other evidence of romantic assignations, so his fear that she was seeing John was put to rest.  

Sherlock burst through the door, caught sight of him and glared.  Then he saw Anderson.  “For god’s sake!”  He stormed over to his chair and curled into it sideways.  

“You’re a celebrity these days, Sherlock, you can’t afford a drug habit.”

“I do not have a drug habit. It’s for a case!”

“What case could possibly justify this?”

Sherlock sat up and looked him in the eyes.  “Magnussen.”

Mycroft’s blood ran cold. So it was true.  He turned to Anderson and told him to leave, threatening him if he mentioned what he’d heard.  After they were gone, he turned back.  “Who is your client?”

Sherlock gave him a curious look.  “Lady Elizabeth Smallwood.”

Mycroft blinked.  It was not the name he was expecting.  It would be easy enough to verify.  If it’s true, then Magnussen wouldn’t be the reason that Mary went to see Sherlock.  It would be something else.  He found himself hoping that were the case.  But putting aside Mary for the moment, there was still the fact that his brother was playing some sort of game and Magnussen was the target.  There was no way that would end well.  

Later that night, Mycroft thought back to the ensuing confrontation with his brother as he tried to warn him away from Magnussen.  It had ended with Sherlock slamming him against the wall.  Mycroft’s men reported later that Magnussen had paid a visit directly to 221B.  They also confirmed that it was Lady Smallwood who had hired him.  So both of his greatest fears had been alleviated. Mary wasn’t having an affair with John, and she wasn’t being targeted by Magnussen.  So what was the problem?  

When Mary came over, they had a delicious dinner, and then he told her about what happened with Sherlock that morning.  She was shocked to learn that he had developed a drug habit for the sole purpose of a case.  “But why?”

“He’s going after Magnussen.”  She froze at the name.  He’d told her plenty about Magnussen, so she knew how dangerous he was.  “His client is Lady Smallwood, I can only imagine what Magnussen has on her.  I’m guessing Sherlock wants to establish a drug habit so that Magnussen will file it away in his archive as Sherlock’s pressure point.  He’ll probably try to use Sherlock as my pressure point, my addict brother.  It’s such a stupid thing to do!  What if he’d overdosed?  And deliberately ensnaring himself in that man’s web is extremely foolhardy.  I’m worried, Mary.  I don’t know what I would do if something happened to him.  His loss would break my heart.”

Mary’s face had gotten more and more distressed as he spoke.  She started shaking.  “I’m…I’m sure he will be alright.  He has to be. He’s so clever, he’ll come up with a way to defeat Magnussen.”

Mycroft turned to her. “Mary, are you okay?  I didn’t mean to upset you so much.  You’re right of course, he’ll come up with something.”

She nodded and took a deep breath.  “Sorry, I just, I know you care deeply for Sherlock and I just hope he stays safe. I couldn’t bear it if something happened…”  She winced.

“Mary, I’m aware that you’ve been keeping something from me.  I really wish that you would just go ahead and tell me.  Whatever it is, we’ll work through it.”

She stared up at him for a long moment, emotions warring on her face.  Finally she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.  “I should have told you weeks ago.  But I wanted to be sure.  Mycroft, I’m pregnant.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Mycroft sat in his parents’ kitchen, watching as his mother chopped potatoes.  He wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe her cutting board was resting on his laptop.  He was too busy trying to tune out the Christmas music to care.  He glanced through to the den and saw that Mary was having a chat with his father.  He turned back and looked at Sherlock.  “Why are we doing this?  We never do this.”

Mrs. Holmes answered for him.  “Because it’s the perfect opportunity to get to know the mother of our grandchild. Shame on you for hiding her from us for so long!”

“My apologies, mother. I don’t know what I was so afraid of!” Indeed, it was actually much less painful than he’d anticipated.  Mary got along well with his parents, that wasn’t really a surprise.  What had been a surprise was how easily Sherlock and John had taken the news.  He’d explained to them how he met her, and thwarted John from asking her out.  John had been rather blasé about the whole thing. Given John’s temper, he’d expected at least a little shouting.  Sherlock had seemed amused and took every opportunity to needle him about caring not being an advantage.  

They were still keeping their relationship and the baby a secret from public knowledge, while they figured out how to protect them from enemies.  But he found that he was eager to finally share the truth with his family. Mycroft settled back in his chair and sipped his tea.  He caught the eye of Bill Wiggins, a friend that Sherlock had brought along that he apparently met while in his drug den.  He had been surprised that this guy hadn’t come up in any of his reports.  He’d have to do a background check, but for now he was relying on Sherlock not to have set loose a maniac on his family. Mycroft felt his eyes drooping, and by the time he realized what was happening to him, he’d slid into unconsciousness.

Mycroft was awakened by a sharp sting on his cheek.  He opened his eyes and saw that Mary was lightly slapping his cheek to try and rouse him to consciousness.  He sat bolt upright.  Mary looked relieved.  “We were drugged, Mycroft.  It was Sherlock.  He gave me a lower dose because of the baby, so I woke up first.  He and John are missing.”

Mycroft cast his mind about to figure out why Sherlock would do such a thing.  Suddenly it hit him.  He looked over at the kitchen table.  The laptop was gone.  He had a sneaking suspicion where he was, but Mycroft checked his mobile just in case. He exhaled.  “He’s at Appledore.  He took my laptop to Appledore.”

Mary looked at him sharply. “Why?  Why would he do that?”

“He probably made a deal with Magnussen.  He gets the laptop in exchange for the documents he’s holding over Lady Smallwood. The problem is that he made a deal with a shark.  Magnussen will know that the laptop is protected and he’d never get in.  He lured Sherlock there with the laptop because he knows what the protocol is if my laptop is stolen.”

Mary looked terrified. “What?  What’s going to happen?”

“The cavalry, Mary. Helicopters, security services, the works.  Sherlock will be caught trying to bribe him.  And being a newspaper magnate, he’ll make sure it makes all the papers tomorrow.  I knew I should have tried harder to keep Sherlock away from him.  He has no idea what he’s dealing with.”

Mary started crying.   “We have to get it back, Mycroft. Don’t call in the cavalry.  Let’s go get it together.  I can break into Appledore, it will be a piece of cake.  I could never have gotten into the vaults, it’s too sophisticated.  But the house will be no problem.  We’ll get the laptop from Magnussen, and bring Sherlock and John home.”

Mycroft shook his head. “I can’t bring you into this, you’re pregnant.”

“But it’s my fault he’s there!”  Tears continued to stream down her face.  “Lady Smallwood was his client, yes, but so was I.  Magnussen found out about my past.  He’s been threatening me.  I went to Sherlock and he has been helping me.  It’s my fault, and I have to make this right.”

Mycroft felt like his insides had liquefied in lava.  So it was true after all.  He took out his mobile and called one of his people, ordered a helicopter.

They landed the helicopter a safe distance away from Appledore and went the rest of the way on foot. Mycroft stayed hidden while Mary took out one of the guards.  They snuck into the house and attempted to find out where Magnussen, Sherlock and John were.  They separated to cover more ground, but then regrouped when Mary texted that she found them. Magnussen was sitting in some sort of alcove, his eyes closed, while Sherlock and John stood looked at him like he was a maniac.  They crept closer, and overheard Magnussen telling them that there were no vaults at Appledore.  All the information he kept on people was stored entirely in his head.  He didn’t need proof, he had his newspapers. Mycroft and Mary exchanged stunned glances.  

Magnussen remarked that it shouldn’t be long now, he’d heard a helicopter not long ago.  Surely it must be Mycroft come to fetch his laptop. Sherlock asked him to confirm once more that the vaults weren’t real, that they were all in his head. Magnussen smugly repeated that the vaults were never real.  Mycroft watched as Sherlock inched towards John, and seemed to be reaching in his coat pocket.  He burst out of hiding, “Sherlock don’t!”

Sherlock had already pulled the gun out of John’s pocket, but he hadn’t had a chance to fire.  He pointed the gun at Magnussen’s head. Mycroft inched in front of Magnussen, trying to shield him.  “Don’t do this.  There’s another way, you can’t shoot a man in cold blood.”

“He’s right, Sherlock.” Mary inched out from her hiding place. She too had a gun in her hand and she had it pointed at Magnussen’s head.  “You don’t want to do this.  It doesn’t matter how much he deserves it, it will leave a mark on you forever, and I can’t let you do this to yourself.  Tell him, John.”

John nodded.  “It’s true, Sherlock.  Even in self-defense, it haunts you forever.”

Sherlock shook his head. “You heard him, Mary.  It’s all in his head.  I put a bullet in his brain and those vaults are gone forever.  It’s the only way.”

“I agree,” she said gently. “But let me do it.  What’s one more, eh?  I’m the one being blackmailed, it should be me.”

Mycroft turned towards Magnussen.  “No Mary, the only reason he’s blackmailing you is because of me.  It’s always been me that he wanted.  And now he’s got me.”  He pulled the gun out of his pocket, put the barrel in Magnussen’s mouth, and pulled the trigger.

The other three stared at him in stunned silence as he loosened his grip on the gun and let it dangle from his finger.   “This is his gun.  I found his weapons room while we were searching the house and I grabbed the nearest loaded gun that I could find.  Sherlock, I assume that somewhere in that brain of yours is a guide to faking a suicide.”

Sherlock stepped over Magnussen’s body and, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, gingerly took the gun from Mycroft’s hand.  “Usually I don’t like to do favors for you, Mycroft, but I’ll make an exception in this case.  My Christmas present to you.”

John stood nearby, gobsmacked.  “I assume that helicopter we heard earlier was the two of you?  No security services will be converging on the house?”

“None.  We have plenty of time to cover this up and then get back to the house.  Hopefully mother will have kept dinner for us.”  Mycroft turned to Mary.  “Come here, my dear.”  

She ran into his arms and hugged him tightly.  “You didn’t have to do that for me, Mycroft.”

“Of course I did, Mary. I could not let you or my brother bloody your hands for my sake.  This was always my burden, and always will be.”

“No, Mycroft.  It’s our burden now.  Schrodinger’s secret, remember?  Safe and unsafe at the same time.  We share this secret and every secret.  Together.”


End file.
